


Synaptic convergence

by Phaerlax



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Cyberpunk, Flashbacks, Gun Violence, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Rival Relationship, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phaerlax/pseuds/Phaerlax
Summary: There are two kinds of brain: those that are preyed on, and those with sharp claws. Calrin's was the latter. So he thought.





	1. Convergence

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey, I didn't see you there~~
> 
> this is the first time I post a story in English; the hype is real. I'd do the whole "this is not my native tongue so please be kind" routine but I'm an English major soooo there's really no excuse for agrammaticality, haha. Please do point out any mistakes as rudely as your heart desires :D
> 
> This was made as an entry for a DeLiPa, a regular Brazilian gay fiction writing challenge. We're in DeLiPa17 and the theme is "deities". I got Alala, greek goddess of the battle cry. What follows is the war cry of my fingers furiously fighting a losing battle against the evil deadline. 
> 
> (I was kind of a special snowflake with the text structuring at some points, please forgive me if it's hard to understand. I'm aware that's not how dashes work. You'll see what I mean)
> 
> it may be important to note I was drunk on three-dollar wine while writing this

It was nice to be surrounded by so many happy people, for a change. Night approached morning as they danced among the bright lights and the deafening spikes of techno music, drawn to each other in a rhythmic haze, some with pieces of clothing missing. All that radiated out from their skulls were simple, primal emotions—joy—hunger—need—lust. Nothing stood out; it all formed a harmonious choir which Calrin could easily ignore as white noise.

Correction: it was nice being surrounded by so many _drunk_ people.  He smiled wryly from his seat at the bar, taking a sip from the shining pink drink held between his fingers and catching a glimpse of the bottom of the glass. He’d gotten to the end of that one a bit too quickly, which had him somewhat worried. Calrin couldn’t really afford to get drunk, not in such a public place. The nightclub was comfortable, sure, but that didn’t mean it was _safe_. He was there for just the second time, after all, and that planetoid _was_ awfully close to Ho-sung’s home turf.

And by awfully close he meant “adjacent to”. Which meant a sharp mind at all times.

But what the hell, if they were gonna find him, they would have done it the first day, right? Right? Eh, bad logic, but good enough to convince yourself when you’re already a little south of sober. He threw his glass back and finished it in a single gulp, spreading sweet fire through his tongue and down his throat. The buzz came almost instantly, and Calrin smiled further. The price of that drink told him it definitely came straight from a lab and was never touched by anything natural whatsoever, but damn, those scientists had done a pretty nice job.

A low whistle of appreciation caught his attention, followed by a manly voice from his left.

“Shall I get you another one of those, starlight? Or maybe something special?” A guy sat down in the stool next to him. Broad shoulders and toned chest under a tight shirt, leaning on his elbow against the shiny bar counter and facing Calrin with a confident grin from behind a well-kept beard. “No offense, but those Rose thingies take forever to kick in. Maybe you’re looking for something with a little more _grit,_ eh?”

“Maybe I am...” He rolled the empty glass over the counter with his fingertip and watched Mr. Perfect with the corner of his eyes, feigning disinterest for now. Calrin didn’t need any of his special talents to tell he was being hit on. But _really_? That wasn’t even a gay club. Did he look gay enough for a guy to come onto him like that so brazenly? It was probably the pink hair. “To be honest, I just ordered this ‘cause I saw someone else having it and liked the color of it. It’s a little weak, yeah. You a regular? Please point me in the right direction here,” he said, sliding the menu interface through the touchscreen display in the counter and closer to the guy’s hand—making sure to bump into it and keep contact just long enough that it couldn’t be an accident.

“Will do,” his suitor replied with a shit-eating grin before navigating the display and placing an order for two “Heathen Nebulae”, a drink that was quite a way down expensive lane. The guy reassured Calrin by saying it was on him, but that was the least of his concerns at that moment.

Mr. Perfect navigated that device too aptly for someone who had been getting their face full of “Heathen Nebula” up to that point. Clearly quite sober. Maybe he had just arrived? But it was quite late. He liked to get people drunk before having his way with them, perhaps? What need was there, with those looks? And to top it off… there was no desire, no lust. That guy’s brain told a very different tale from his face. The dominant emotion Calrin was picking up from him right now was worry—with a tinge of anticipation. Either he was a very insecure man deep down… or he wasn’t really interested in Calrin. At least not in that way.

“To answer your question, I wouldn’t say I’m quite a regular,” he answered, as soon as the order was confirmed. “But I’ve been here a couple times, sure. Never had someone catch my eye quite like you, though… forgive the bluntness, I just had to come over and say hi.” He wished everyone’s idea of _hi_ was buying him expensive shit. “Love what you do with the hair, by the way. What does it look like natural? I wanna see if I can picture it.”

Seriously, what the fuck?

With an internal sigh of contempt, Calrin had brushed the alcoholic buzz away and cleared his mind, quickly projecting his consciousness outwards and diving into that dude’s brain, all the while wishing it was just paranoia and he wouldn’t find anything other than a distinct lack of flirting skill.

“I’m the one who’s picturing something right now, handsome. And I like it.” He pretended to check out his abs while his mind Probed deeper.

There was a great sense of urgency and expectation at the surface level, as well as some disgust towards his last remarks—so he wasn’t gay, likely. Then the memory of an image hit Calrin:

It was a picture of himself, on the screen of a laptop. He had his hair worn longer and blonde and no glasses on. WANTED could be read in big bold letters under it, and the site had the watermark of the United Nations of Terra.

“It doesn’t have to be all in your head… I gather they’ve got some very spacious bathroom stalls here. Pretty clean too.” Calrin resisted the urge to snicker. _All in your head._ The only thing on his head right now was how fucking fake this bounty hunter was. His name was Lukan Santiano Rodrigues, but his lovely wife Ashly liked to call him Luke in her Franco-X2 accent. They had a cute family with two kids, but she had some problems with alcohol…? No, drugs. Was he just trying to make ends meet by taking those jobs? Former cop. Yep. Wow, he felt pretty guilty about the flirting, too. _What a great hubby you are, Luke._

There, his plan. A mental run-through of it, even; the guy had been going through it repeatedly a short time ago, it seemed. He’d confirm Calrin’s identity—drug him—pay his check—pretend to be an acquaintance—take him “home”. _Sorry, friend, those are not things that are going to happen. A+ for effort, though._

“Hm…” Calrin leaned back and pretended to think about it for a few seconds, fiddling with his hair while hitting greater access levels inside the poor sod’s skull. Soon he was deep enough to be able to Puppet him or even Suggest away his childhood memories, but he’d do none of those things. As bounty hunters go, this one was pretty civil about it, so he’d return the favor. “Sorry, not feeling it right now. Maybe some other time? When you’re less drowsy, too.”

“What? I’m…” he started to reply, right before Calrin’s Probing became a powerful psychic stream, pouring right into his mark’s mind and around his thoughts, eroding them away into shapeless lethargy. “I’m not…”

Calrin moved to hold him and stop him from landing face-first into the counter, instead gently lowering his body down to rest on top of it. He used to opportunity to cup a feel of Lukan’s chest, too. Dude was fucking _ripped._ Calrin wouldn’t stand a chance trying to get away from him through mundane means, with his scrawny physique. Fortunately, he didn’t have too.

The bartender arrived with their drinks at that precise moment, and Calrin quickly laughed and joked about his friend having had too much. The bartender smiled back (a quick Probe into his surface thoughts revealed it was genuine and that was a pretty common occurrence) and said they didn’t have to pay if they didn’t drink it (he made it seem like courtesy but, apparently, there were three other orders for those so he could just move them along). Calrin offered him an apologetic and thankful look before getting down from his stool, claiming he would be right back while stretching his back a little and Probing deeper into the bartender’s head.

He wouldn’t be back. And he changed the bartender’s recent memories of his facial features and the direction he was heading in while they walked away from each other, just for the sake of it.

Fucking hell, though. How did that guy find him? He was going by the UNT’s shitlist, that much was for sure; he obviously didn’t know Calrin was a pretty damn strong psion. If Ho-sung had been the one to hire him, that information would surely have been part of the briefing… and Young Goodman Lukan would likely not have risked taking the job.

Experience told him that where there was one wolf, there were bound to be others. Calrin navigated through the partying people, trying to make his way to the exit in an inconspicuous manner while concentrating on a Scan of the surroundings. He filtered away the white noise of the crowd, looking for points of divergence, and found a handful. There were some people drugged out of their minds, and Calrin smiled when he felt them; it was always fun to go through the thought process of a high person, but he just didn’t have the time to do it properly at that point. There were some angry people, probably trying to convince their drunk friends to go home. A mind that felt like the DJ’s was pretty depressed, actually, which didn’t make much sense in contrast with the music he was blasting out, but anyway. _Best wishes._

There. Two pings of people who were alert and trying to focus, moving intently. He Probed them tentatively and started Borrowing their vision—sure enough, they seemed to be looking in his general direction through the crowd and moving to intercept him. One of the two was feeling a kind of assurance typical of someone with a concealed weapon.

 _I just wanted to have a good time._ Calrin sighed. What to do about this… he couldn’t Probe deeper into two people at once, and by the time he knocked one out, the other would have reached him already. He’d need to use the crowd as a buffer.

An idea came to him while looking up. The colorful lights of the party projectors illuminated tiny objects affixed to the ceiling. Water sprinklers, in case of a fire.

He had no easy way to make a fire quick, but knew how those things usually worked. And when you hear the alarm go off, you don’t look for a fire, you get the fuck out. _Perfect._

Calrin focused on several of the sprinklers at once. It was hard, like splitting your mind into several pieces, and he wasn’t the best at multitasking, but that trick was pretty simple. All he had to do was concentrate on the little mercury containers and think of _agitation…_

They broke pretty quickly as he Microwaved them. The fire alarm started screeching, muffled at first, then very loudly as the music stopped, then muffled again as people started screaming in fear and rushing for the front exit doors while getting soaked. He’d have felt a little dumb if the alarm system wasn’t linked to the sprinklers, but thankfully that wasn’t the case.

Calrin started to run with everybody else, mixing into the crowd; however, he demonstrated an uncanny ability to not be hit by panicked people—in fact, they seemed to avoid getting close to him as he moved. Calrin’s pursuers, on the other hand, found themselves almost getting knocked over repeatedly by the frenzied clubbers.

It was so very easy to Suggest someone simply run in a slightly different direction when they are already running in the first place, even more so if they’re being irrational.

The psion quickly made his way, cutting through the crowd, until he couldn’t move anymore because of how packed in everyone was. Were they not letting people out?

He Scanned in the direction of the doors and felt both confusion and determination from the bouncers. They were hell-bent on not letting people out without paying, apparently. Calrin Borrowed the hearing from one and heard what was coming out of her earpiece: angry orders not to let people through until it was determined there was actually a fire.

_Love capitalism as much as the next guy, but I’ve got no time for this right now._

Calrin Jabbed the bouncers’ minds, one by one, making them reel and bend over from horrible and sudden migraines. He felt a little sorry, but had always been a firm believer that the comfort of “just following orders” sometimes had a price.

The panicked people flooded out from the nightclub under the sound of the alarm and cries for help. The psion exited stage left, hoping no one would get trampled. He took a run into a side street and only realized it was raining heavily when adrenaline started to subside.

Panting, Calrin bent over, hands on knees. His brain was a powerful instrument of perfection; his body, not so much. Even a short sprint had him fatigued, and he was still not far enough from the club not to hear the commotion.

Was he safe? Wishful thinking, almost certainly. Calrin closed his eyes and concentrated on a long-distance Scan. With such a wide reach, he wouldn’t pick up much more than surface emotions, but that was good enough to locate potential threats.

Very few people showed up on his radar. So, the huge apartment buildings in that district were in fact as abandoned as they looked? Those few people that he did pick up felt kinda shifty. This was probably the part of down you came to for drugs, questionable bedfellows or a discount organ transplant. Which meant it was unlikely for the UNT’s Planetary Police Depot to send any of their Battle Angels flying that way unless there was outright gang warfare erupting on the streets.

That was good because it lowered the chances of getting arrested, but it was also bad, because it dramatically increased the probability of a crazy murderhobo on Ho-sung’s payroll shooting him with a rocket launcher. There was only so much psionics could defend Calrin from.

 _There_. He picked up on a signal moving intently through the streets and focused on it. It felt a lot like the confident guy with the concealed weapon amidst the crowd from before. Damn, he was close; two corner turns away. _If he turns at the right corners, that is._

He Probed deeper—a little difficult at that distance, but Calrin was good—and subtly Suggested that the guy did turn at the right corners. Losing him would be comfortable, sure, but then he’d be free to try again another day and maybe report back to whomever. Calrin wouldn’t have that.

He backtracked a little, standing close to the previous corner. He would time it so that his pursuer could just see him disappear as he arrived.

As he got closer, the Probing went deeper. Calrin could feel the rain pouring down over the man’s bald head and his grip on the gun that he now held with his hand. It was a laser gun. He was taken by frustration and pretty certain there was no way he’d find the pink-haired little shit, whom he didn’t actually know to be the guy he was actually after, but why would he have run away like that if he wasn’t? Little shit had done _something_ wrong, for sure. Worst case scenario, a degenerate would get a little roughed up. But he hoped. The reward in the bounty list was pretty good. He should get something out of this shit night. Then again, he could just make his own reward later—lots of pretty girls on the street after the nightclub fiasco—

_And here I was, feeling guilty about offing this fucker._

There! Pink smudge—he took the bait—right around the corner—don’t think twice—wait, what the— _fire!_

A bright blast of energy exploded against a section of wall very close to Calrin as he darted into the alleyway. The Probe faltered as he winced away from falling shrapnel. He had shot at first sight, the absolute madman. Shit, if he didn’t get that link back up fast enough…

he turned the corner, his boots splashing. There was another crossroads in the distance—and the dumpster—which way did the lil’ bugger run—be quiet—there was no way he had ran fast—don’t you dare be that smart you—the dumpster—shit shit _shit_ —tiptoe to the dumpster—yes, slowly, do it slowly—quietly—slowly—open check and shoot— _deeper faster NOW_

He opened the lid and saw himself staring back from amidst the trash, wide-eyed. He laughed and pulled the—nope—what the— _no._

The order to pull the trigger had left the man’s brain and dissipated before traveling down his arm. He was paralyzed, mouth stuck open in the midst of an aborted laugh, gun pointed harmlessly at his target.

Calrin had never been that good at Puppeting. Too many things to keep track of at once; he was better at focusing on one. But keeping someone still wasn’t that hard.

“Almost had me there for a sec, love” Calrin said while getting out of the trash, and instantly regretted it. The slight break in focus was enough for the guy—Tobias, Toby to friends, of which he had few—to pull the trigger. Calrin managed to get him back on lockdown before he could take advantage of freedom, but not before the accidental shot started a literal dumpster fire. _Okay, no talking. Focus._

He slowly raised his arm and grabbed the gun, Puppeting Toby’s fingers open afterwards and taking it from him.

_I do feel kinda bad about this, you know—what—then again, you did shoot first—let me go let me go let me GO—please don’t beg—please—it makes this harder—you fucking MONS—_

The link was immediately broken after the blast, like a phone line going dead. Calrin held down the smoking gun and let the rain wash over him for a little while. He massaged his left temple, precisely where he had shot the guy. It was weird, killing and dying at the same. Felt like a little piece of himself really did die every time. Yeah, that wasn’t the first. He wondered if it would be the last…

Ho-sung would have been so proud. And Rad as well. He had been trying to escape life as killer, and how? By killing. _Maybe I don’t have such a great brain after all._

Calrin struck those thoughts away. No use for philosophical divagations at such a time, he should get the hell away first. He tried to throw the dead body into the flaming dumpster, but it was heavy, and Calrin was both weak and squeamish. He used telekinesis instead, slowly floating the body out of the ground and into the trash. There was a joke to be made there, but he just couldn’t find it.

A Scan of the area revealed there were three people peeking at him from a window eleven stories above. Too far away for him to Probe deep enough. He turned and continued to run, this time pushing himself with short bursts of telekinesis to go faster. Knocked himself over with those two times. He wasn’t that hot on the telekinesis stuff, it was more of Rad’s thing. _No, bad thoughts._

The alleyways and streets in Shit District all seemed the same, but Scanning kept Calrin on track. He always headed to where there were fewer readings, diving deeper into the abandoned areas, where disappearing would be easier, for better or for worse. His lame disposable phone told him it was that planetoid’s equivalent of 4AM, and not much else.

It was precisely 4:12 when deep trouble showed up in his radar. Three pings, heading in his direction with purpose from three different directions. What the actual fuck. For a moment Calrin almost shat himself, thinking those were other psions, but felt no intrusions in his mind after running a quick defensive routine. They weren’t Scanning him. How, then? They were getting close, closer, _oh shit._

Calrin looked around. It was a somewhat wide alley without much cover. His first pursuer would turn the corner twenty meters ahead at any moment now. Calrin started Probing deep, hoping the other two wouldn’t surprise him while he focused on the first.

He could feel himself holding something while running. A rifle. The guy had a rifle, an actual ballistic rifle, and he knew how to shoot it, too. He was thinking about the rifle. Its name was Bessy. _I’m so fucked, it’s funny._

He’d have one shot at this, quite literally. Calrin took a deep breath and held it in, raising his arms and pointing the laser gun at the corner from which Bessy’s wielder would emerge in seconds. He couldn’t Probe deep enough to Puppet him so quickly, but he could Borrow _—_

His vision was replaced by Rifle Guy’s just as he reached the corner. As soon as he began making the turn, Calrin pulled the trigger.

Pink—chrome—flash—pain, Bessy, pavement cracking—flash, hurts, flash _—_ darkness

The psion let go of his breath, touching his chest to make sure the pain he felt was not truly his. It wasn’t. The rifleman hadn’t been aiming forward when he turned and ended up emptying some shells into the ground while taking two blasts to the chest. One missed, but two were enough. He was in the ground now. Only unconscious… no, there. Gone.

Calrin Scanned. Two pings behind him. He turned to see a fat man with a full beard and a really tall woman, each emerging from one end of a T intersection. The woman pointed two wicked looking laser pistols straight at him, while the man had something that looked quite like an uzi.

“Drop the gun, kid. Yer wanted alive,” the bearded guy said, almost warmly, while the woman stared sternly at the dead body. “Don’t make this harder or we’ll have to shoot yer kneecaps in, ya see?”

The woman got out two pairs of cuffs and started to approach, walking through the rainfall, one hand still wielding a gun. Calrin nodded and dropped his weapon, all the while furiously and clumsily Probing into them. If he got cuffed it was game over, he was fucking sure of it. He considered praying, but couldn’t spare any attention away from the Probing—

The woman shook her head for a moment, confused, then stopped walking and stared daggers into the pink-haired punk before shouting, “He’s doing it. _Shoot!”_

So they knew it. Well, that was the end of that, he supposed. Calrin could feel them get ready to fire, but his access level wasn’t deep enough to do much about it.

Time froze.

Not _really_ , though; it was this thing that happened to psions sometimes in stressful situations. The mind went into overdrive, processing thoughts so fast that everything else seemed to stand still like a picture. But it was more of a cruel joke than a useful ability. He couldn’t do anything but think about what he was seeing: two people about to shoot him. They wouldn’t kill him, apparently, just disable him. Knees, the fat man had said. Would he ever walk again? He didn’t need to, really.

Ho-sung just wanted him alive. What was he gonna do? Calrin’s bet was on being left sedated and weakened; then, Ho-sung would have Rad break his mind down and reassemble it in a more compliant form. Then he’d finally have two fine tools to do whatever his delusions of grandeur demanded.

Calrin figuratively spit on the ground. No. Not gonna happen. _Ever_. Those goons wanted to shoot his legs? He’d use all his might to maneuver himself and get hit in the face instead, or at least the chest. He’d rather die in a run-down alley of some shitty planetoid than become some gangbanger’s toy. That was Radis’ idea of a life, but not his.

Well, would you look at that, his last thoughts were going to be about that good-for-nothing brat. Sure, whatever.

The world started moving again and Calrin’s readied command to have his body jump further into the line of fire went off. He ducked forward and heard shots. _Pain_ —in his forehead

The pain was not his, it was that woman’s, and now it was gone. Calrin looked up and saw a smoking hole in the the middle of her forehead. Her pistol had not gone off at all. The man had fallen over, unconscious. Pretty much like that guy Calrin had knocked out at the bar.

 “What the fuck, Rin! You were just gonna roll over and die like that? That’s _bullshit_ ,” a voice behind him called out, young and cocky. He didn’t need a Scan to confirm it, but he did it anyway, and sure enough, the mind of the person behind him put up resistance. He couldn’t just slide in. “Will you do the goddamn courtesy of looking at me with your actual eyeballs? I’ve just saved your life. Not that you seem to care for it all that much!”

“I saw myself in a no-win scenario and decided to cut my losses,” Calrin replied with a calmness that he did not feel and turned around slowly, while willing the dropped gun to float back into his hand. He saw Radis approach, stepping over the body of Rifle Guy. The rain and darkness made it a little hard to see, but Calrin could picture Rad’s rainwater-soaked K-pop idol face pretty well in his head. He wore an ill-fitting trench coat and twirled his gun lazily on one hand. “Why do _you_ care? Are you that eager to please the boss?”

“Fuck, haven’t I told you enough times already? I’m the one who gets to beat you. I. 나. No one else. Certainly not some lame goons with lame guns!” He stomped forward, reducing the distance between them. Calrin felt the familiar touch of Radis’ mind Probing at his and quickly shielded himself, blocking it. That was more of a stretching exercise than an actual attack, but it lasted long enough for him to feel the exasperation and boastfulness radiating from the other. And it certainly felt like the prelude of more to come.

“Do you really wanna do this again, brat? I worry about your health, you see. It’s raining today…” Calrin suddenly dropped his defense and Jabbed at Radis’ brain with full strength. “You might catch a cold when I leave you face-down on the ground again.”

Rad grunted and halted his advance, bringing his free hand to his head. Remarkably, he had managed to mostly parry the assault, in spite of how shit at telepathy he was. When he raised his eyes, though, he saw Calrin pointing his gun at him.

“Maybe I should just shoot you this time and be done with this,” the pink-haired psion thought aloud, fiddling with the trigger. “I grow bored of this game of cat and mouse. You’re never gonna get the cheese. Just run back to daddy and tell him you failed again.” 

“You wanna shoot me, Rin? Do it,” Radis beckoned, cracking a smile and resuming his slow approach. “I _dare_ ya.”

“I’m sorry, you seem to be under the assumption that I won’t? Big mistake. I—”

“ _Do. It_.”

Calrin frowned. He sounded serious. Then Calrin shrugged. _Your funeral._

He pulled the trigger, aiming low.

It all happened very fast. The moment he did it, Radis had stopped, spread his legs and adopted something reminiscent of a martial arts stance; then the laser flash happened, Rad spun around in a blur of speed and Calrin’s gun was hit by a laser blast, flying away while he cursed and shook the heat away from his empty fingers.

Radis was close enough for his face to be visible, and he wore a shit-eating grin. And… his own gun had been holstered in his belt before Calrin even shot.

_What._

“Did you… did you just…” He started, flabbergasted, and cursed himself for stuttering so shamefully. “ _Redirect a fucking blast?_ How? Since when? What the fuck! _”_

“Maybe I’ll teach it to you after I take you down, if you ask more nicely.” Radis drew his gun back and Calrin braced himself, but the fucker just threw it aside. It made a soft splash. “Could help you improve for a rematch.”

“Big fucking talk from a brat with a losing streak!” Did Rad really think he stood a chance? He could win an arm-wrestling match, sure, but his psionics had never gotten the upper hand on Calrin’s. Anyway, he had made Calrin genuinely kinda pissed off, and now he was in for it, weird laser-bending skills or no weird laser-bending skills. “I’ll send you back to Ho-sung in such a sorry state he’ll be _embarrassed_.”

Radis glared at him. Psionic waves started to emanate from him like heat from a dying star, and Caldrin answered in kind. They’d start as was traditional, then…

“Stop. Bringing up. _That fucking bastard!_ ”

His last words melded with psychic imprint as they started Wailing simultaneously.

Glass shattered and rain flowed away from the two of them as psionic waves made from their most primal emotions clashed with one another. All offense, no technique, the Wail was the first thing any psion mastered. And it was overwhelming.

 _Why won’t you just_ —Ho-sung drinking his coffee—sunny— _wish he’d choke on it_ —freedom— _want_ — _fucking selfish—_ searching—running—defeat— _why_ —alone, and the alarm bell goes off—Venus Proximae— _hate you_ —where—pink—Rin—pain—the sound of gunshots—Ho-sung’s voice, hate, _choke on it_ —waiting—their naked bodies grinding against each other—sweat and Terran music—Rin's moaning—want—searching—defeat—alone— _come back_ —weak—come—alone—together—longing— _done with this fucking shit_ —tools—shall I get you another one of those, starlight?—hate— _shoot me_ —selfish—glass breaking—

He was reeling when the Wail subsided and took an erratic step back, then forward, dizzy. He could see that he was in a similar state. His mind was a maelstrom of phantom feelings and memories that weren’t his own. He didn’t understand it all, but there was no time to figure them out; he was gonna attack him at any moment. But why was he thinking of them fucking, at a time like this…?

Calrin snapped out of the convergence, regaining his sense of individuality. He blinked hard, trying to ignore a growing migraine. “Pervert,” was all he could get out.

“ _Shut up!_ ” was the reply, and Radis jumped at him, quite literally. He propelled himself forward with telekinesis, in simulacrum of flight. It was on.

Calrin did the same thing, except he pushed himself sideways, dodging the charge by sliding several meters over the pavement; Radis spun on his heels to face him again, his hands raised in some martial art guard position. Only then did Calrin realize he had slid out of the coat and wore only a white undershirt, which left his biceps exposed. The brat was pretty short, but still had quite some muscle on him, just as he remembered.

“You really are a pervert, stripping like that,” Calrin said, steeling his mind just in case that had been a cover-up for a psychic attack. It wasn’t. “This isn’t a fistfight, you know.”

“Watch me make it one!” Radis charged forward again, a little faster than before. But Calrin was expecting it this time. Without moving a muscle, he generated an opposite and greater telekinetic force, which hit the cocky brat like a stone wall. His gliding was interrupted midway through and he fell on his ass, the air leaving his lungs.

“Wanna try that one again?” Calrin smirked smugly. Turns out Rad was little more than a thug after all. Cuter, perhaps, but a thug nonetheless.

The psion on the ground grit his teeth, staring daggers. Then he clasped his hands together, grunting, and telekinetic force flooded the air. Calrin immediately felt pressure closing in on his body from all sides. Was Rad trying to crush him? That was dumb. The more directions you try to push in, the weaker it was. Wait, did he feel wetter? And his vision was blurry—

Radis was using telekinesis to control the rainwater and encase him in a watery prison. Huh. _Interesting_ , at least. Not particularly _effective,_ but—

The water started to freeze.

Calrin freed himself with a kinetic burst in every direction, shattering the newly-formed ice and pushing the water away before the trick could do any serious damage.

“Reverse-Microwaving? Creative, but-” Then he saw Radis had used that all as a distraction to get close, and was standing right in front of him “ _shi-_ ”

Before Calrin could even think of gliding away, he felt the open palm of his opponent hit his chest hard. Kinetic energy bloomed from the point of contact and the target flew back in a blur of black and pink, colliding with the wall of a building.

Calrin managed to deaccelerate his flight with some desperate telekinesis, but he still hit the wall hard, and it hurt like fucking hell. He fell to his knees, panting heavily. Didn’t need any psionic talent to feel how proud Rad was of that. He raised his head and glared at the brat with angry eyes, ready to Jab at his impudent brain with all his mind—

He only had time to realize Radis was closer than he thought he would be and to see his arm moving before stinging pain exploded on his face, like a long distance bitch slap. His concentration was thrown off and his head thrown aside.

Calrin got up, leaning against the wall, and shot both another irritated glance and an intense Probe at his opponent. His mind got surface readings of anger and resentment and his sight just managed to catch Radis’ arm whipping out in his direction before that same force slapped his face aside, this time in the opposite direction. Calrin’s concentration once again dissipated, and the Probing was aborted. This time, he realized his face was wetter after impact.

The bastard was whipping him with water.

“You’re always boasting about how you’re better at telepathy than I am,” Radis said while calmly stepping closer. This time Calrin looked up long enough to see how he was moving his arms around in languid motions, streams of rainwater following the gestures like liquid snakes. He tried a quick Jab, but once again was almost instantaneously rebuked with a water whip. Even by shielding himself with his arms, the pain was still enough to dissipate his mental efforts. “Turns out sharp pain is a great way to keep sneaky psions like you in check. Not so tough without your almighty Probing, eh? Feel like surrendering yet?”

Calrin just glared at him. “As you wish,” Radis shrugged, before unleashing a wicked barrage of strikes.

The pink-haired psion used his arms to shield himself from the watery onslaught, slashing pain exploding against his skin as he squirmed with his back to the wall. He couldn’t concentrate for shit and, despite himself, was pretty sure he let out a soft whimper or two.

“Kinda kinky, uh? And I’m the pervert,” he grinned, but then his expression darkened. “You think you can escape Ho-sung and the UNT like this? Please. You’re hopeless…”

Calrin grit his teeth. He was sure one of the lashes had cut into his arm. The pain’s intensity was starting to fade as he grew accustomed to it. _Soon_.

“…turning away like you’re fucking better than me and running like a damn coward. You could’ve fucking killed Ho-sung and been done with it but _nooo,_ Mr. Unfazed had to be so above it all, huh? Well _fuck you!_ Left me to pick the pieces all by myself! You. Selfish. Piece. Of… _”_ Calrin wasn’t paying attention to what he said, because each word was punctuated by a lash, and those seemed more relevant. But his resolve steeled, fueled by his irritation. He launched a Probe into Radis’ mind, ignoring the pain.

The other psion didn’t even seem to notice, absorbed by his own speech, “I _hate_ you! Why do I—”

Calrin’s Probing became a powerful psychic stream, pouring right into his assailant’s mind and around his thoughts. When Radis did notice, his eyes widened and his water whips dissipated as he devoted all his concentration to raising mental defenses. Too little, too late; Calrin’s influence was seeping deeper and deeper, grasping with the strength of a constrictor snake, and Radis’ psyche flailed helplessly against it like the little rodent that he was.

“ _I am better at telepathy than you are,_ ” Calrin said, slowly, both with his mouth and as an echo inside Radis’ head. He was already staring at himself through his eyes, feeling his intense frustration, anger, and—

 _Ho-sung took another long gulp from his huge coffee mug._ Choke on it _, Radis thought._ Die _. The man’s hair was already going gray and receding. He should just drop dead already. But instead of helping expedite his passing, Radis just sat there beside him, watching over his mind, on the lookout for any psionic threats._ Like Cal _. He used to hope Rin would try to ambush Ho-sung, soon after he ran away. Then they could kill him together, disappear and be free. But now he knew that wasn’t going to happen Rin—_ Calrin _—would never take that risk. Why, when he could just hide away by himself? That selfish cunt. The mere memory of how his skin felt against his own was enough to make Radis fume with anger_ —

_“Mr. Kim,” he asked, making sure to sound respectful. Ho-sung raised his eyes from the papers he was reading, but not his head. That meant go on “When you do find Calrin, will you— can I be sent to collect him?”_

_The man took another long gulp of coffee, then gave the hint of a smile, and Radis wished he’d stay alive for just a little while longer. Enough to find what he was looking for_

—it seemed that sharp pain was not the most effective way to break one’s concentration. Calrin just stood there, very confused. Rad _didn’t_ want to be Ho-sung’s lapdog, then? But why did he stay, then? What, why? This was just—

Pain wrecked him as Radis stopped defending himself and just Jabbed at him with abandon—

_“I’m leaving. Will you come along?” Rin asked, whispering in his ear_

—while Calrin tried to recollect himself, mount a defense, but it was just—

_“W-what? Leaving? What do you… how…”_

—impossible to focus with so many—

_“I can feel you don’t want to. Sorry for asking. I won’t make you”_

—memories flooding—

_He felt Rin’s mind break through and violently take over his own and knock him out_

—so suddenly—

_It was morning when the alarm woke him up_

—this—

_alone._

A low psionic rumbling filled the air around them as Radis looked at him with bloodshot eyes. Calrin realized what was coming and tried to brace himself somehow, in vain—

the Wail came and he had no will to respond in kind.

It him full-force and was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Calrin didn’t resist as the very essence of Rad’s psyche washed over him, running through his thoughts like a tsunami, melting them down and replacing them with Rad’s. As he fell to his knees, he saw childhood memories and violent scenes, sometimes mixed together—the Battle Angels knocking down shabby wooden doors—prison—a psychiatrist, her name was Lina—power—powder—SS-26—dirty streets—a Korean man—money—food—a leash—killing—Rin—weak—touching myself—Rin—touching Rin—confusion—betrayal—anger—alone—die—loser—weak—confusion—touching—

There was so, _so_ much. The definition of overwhelming. As the Wail tore through him, it was like Calrin was experiencing Radis’ entire lifetime compressed into a few seconds, every moment of joy, sadness, anger, lust, frustration, dread, there was _so much._

By the end of it, Calrin had a thousand-light-year stare, unblinking. He hated himself for how much he had made Radis hate him.

It took him a while to realize he couldn’t move. Without resistance, Radis had achieved max access level, of course. He was completely Puppeting him.

“I’m stronger than you are,” Radis whispered while making his way to Calrin and forcing him to stand up. His voice was raspy, and Calrin realized he had been physically screaming throughout the Wail. A gun flew to his hand. “You hear me, Calrin? You can’t play around with me and throw me away like I’m some kind of accessory to your fucking life. I. Am stronger. Than you are.”

Radis reached him and put the gun in his hand, immediately making Calrin point it at his own temple. He felt like he was in spectator mode inside his own body.

“I’ll be calling the shots now. I could end you right now, see? I can.”

 _You should,_ he thought, and felt Radis react with shock. _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I’ve underestimated you so much in so many ways_ — _how could I have thought you were on his side? I had no idea I… because of me, you… oh my god, Rad. You have every reason to hate me. Every right to do it. Go ahead. I’m so sorry._

A water whip lashed Calrin across a face that was already wet from rain and tears, tuning it away from the gun, which he dropped on command.

 _“_ Fucking dumbass. You still don’t get it? You’ve just seen my entire life and still think I want you dead? And is killing the only way you solve your problems now, anyway? You’re right, you’re an idiot.” Rad sighed with his raspy voice. “Is love such a complicated thing even that big brain of yours can’t pick up on it? _”_

 _Well it_ was _a strong theory but the repeated threats of violence kinda make you wonder right_

“Ah… sorry ‘bout that. Had a lot of steam to vent.” Radis held his shoulders and dropped the Puppeting. “Do you want to hit me back…?”

Calrin struck a knee into his crotch.

“Next time you want to whip me, ask first,” he said, somewhat playfully, although Rad didn’t seem to be having fun as he dropped to the ground making strangled noises. “And maybe be more direct about your— _uh_ ”

Visceral pain twisted inside his guts. Calrin reeled forward, grunting. He was feeling Radis’ pain? Damn, he didn’t mean to hit _that_ hard—but anyway, he should cut that connection.

Calrin checked his brain. There was no connection to cut.

He still felt the pain.

“I think… we may have a problem.”

(It turned out to be a feature)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you really read this? Wow, thanks <3 (unless you're just reading the endnotes in which case blah to you, BLAH)
> 
> So. I should say some stuff, I guess?
> 
> My greatest inspirations were Sense8 (for the trippy point of view changes, Borrowing in particular) and D&D (Psionic lore and Mind Flayer stuff). This fic was better in my head. SORRY. There are some unexplained things scattered around in there just to make the worldbuild seem richer (which I desperately needed, having written this in 48 hours hahaha) (THAT'S VERY QUICK FOR ME OK). These characters are a little messed up, if you didn't notice. Why did Rin agree to shoot Radis if he liked him? Why they never quite figure each other out before this point, even with mind-reading skillz? Answer: MESSED UP, YO. Killing people is wrong, don't do it at home. There was supposed to be smut before the epilogue (there's an epilogue btw), but I ran out of tiiiime aaaaaa [mental breakdown] BUT I'm probably gonna publish a lil' smut sequence in the future. Just can't resist writing sex between two characters that share feelings, that's why "it turned out to be a feature" :3 (YOU DID THIS TO ME SENSE8). And who knows, maybe I'll go further and make a full-blown sequel? (I can hear you whispering "please don't", y'know. That's RUDE). I say that about all my oneshots, so take it with a grain of salt or two.
> 
> I love comments but I love kudos too~~~~ gib pls or BR will report u. Unless you didn't like this story in which case I'M SORRY I FAILED YOU RANDOM INTERNET PERSON AAAAAA *commits seppuku while Wailing*
> 
> Vasilão morressedo. A não ser que queira star morta, nesse caso vasilão é imortal.


	2. Epilogue: a long day

“Negative, Mr. Kim, there has yet to be a report from Svetlana or Radis,” his guard informed him. Ho-sung dismissed him with an irritated wave, and he got out of the apartment again to stand with the other three by the door, which locked itself automatically behind him.

Something told Ho-sung that Calrin had evaded his grasp again, and also that sending Radis along was a huge miscalculation. His brow furrowed while he made use of the morning light to read the papers amassed in his dinner table; several pages of credit statements for his various accounts and a report on all the resources the Organization wasted on that hunt for his lost psion. Paper was a dying thing these days, but Ho-sung believed in its perenniality.

Suddenly, the aging mobster head a commotion by the door. He heard people falling over, the knob turning, an invasive sensation inside his head. Ho-sung jumped out of the table with all the girth his old bones allowed him and reached out to grab—the half-empty bottle of whiskey over his bar counter. He yawned, uncharacteristically tired and drunk. It had been a long night. He’d received the report about all of his agents and their target getting offed in a shooting with the Battle Angels early in the morning. It was a hard pill to swallow. Ho-sung feared that, without any of his psion enforcers, the Organization might collapse. He turned his gaze down, glossing over the bank statements. He dismissed the feeling that there were things missing. It was probably the alcohol talking.

A guard came into the apartment to inform him of a change in shift. The man had an ugly bruise in his forehead where he had banged it on the wall earlier after tripping over on a carpet. Ho-sung should count himself lucky Calrin was dead; without his Radis and with guards like those, he shuddered to think what might happen if a psion of his skill decided to attack.

He dismissed the guard with tired nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who needs Neuralyzers when you've got a psion power couple? :p


End file.
